


My Heart, My Home

by SatiricalExile



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Military, Bittersweet Ending, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I Love My Boys And Dammit They Deserve To Be Happy, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Self-Indulgent, Separation Anxiety, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 06:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatiricalExile/pseuds/SatiricalExile
Summary: Brock picks up a cheap blanket one day because he thinks it'll look good on his couch. Turns out his grumpy, 6'2, Marine boyfriend is more than approving.





	My Heart, My Home

Moving was never easy. It was mornings of waking up with aching joints just to get back to heavy lifting, it was long nights on the phone with the rental agency for the U-Haul, and it was finding junk long forgotten that he now had to make space for at the new place. But he was almost forty, it was about time he moved from his dingy little apartment into an actual house. 

It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it before, detective work certainly paid him enough to, but Brock couldn’t shake the feeling that moving into such a large space would just be lonely. That was, until he met Jack. After that, everything more or less fell into place. He was spending less time on his own and more with Jack attached to his hip. They didn’t start off that way; in the beginning Jack held a rather polite distance between them. Their relationship for the first year was innocent, almost annoyingly so. A year of teetering between _ just friends _ and _ boyfriends _ passed until Brock finally put his foot down and made Jack choose what he wanted. And Jack chose him.

Their relationship took a turn for the better but it still felt relatively slow paced. Jack, while staying faithful, was hessitant to have sex. Just like with everything else, Jack eventually got comfortable. He got attached, the very thing he feared. Brock was never the nurturing type, never the kind to fuss over emotions or things like that. Not before Jack, at least. Certainly not with anyone else. But Jack was different. Despite his size and his rough exterior, there was something gentle about him that Brock couldn’t bring himself to taint with brutal honesty. Because Jack already knew the truth, he didn’t need Brock lecturing him like he was a teenager with a dewy-eyed view of the world. 

Once Brock managed to climb over the emotional wall Jack built around himself, things changed. They felt less like _ boyfriend _ and more like… something else. Brock couldn’t put a name on it, it was something so deeply intricate that it couldn’t dream to be properly explained by simple words. And he kind of liked it like that, it was something special just for them. Jack felt it too and they bonded over it, kindled it until it grew into a forest fire. They got closer, Jack’s deployments got harder and more harrowing to get through, and Brock finally understood what people meant when they said that home wasn’t a place. 

So they moved in together. 

While they technically lived in separate apartments throughout their relationship, by that time Jack was always over at his anyway. They were used to living together and it was easy, but just like a snake, they were growing out of their old skin. They needed something just a tad larger to live comfortably again. 

Searching for the house had been a task, to say the very least. Jack was less than responsive, his answers ambiguous whenever Brock asked if he liked the places they were being shown. After six houses and weeks of trying to decipher what Jack was searching for, Brock finally figured out that Jack didn’t care _ where _ they moved. As long as Brock was going to be there and it was within their budget, he was fine with anything. It was a good feeling. 

The place they settled on was a little brick townhouse in a suburb twenty minutes away from Brock’s work. The house itself was nice, single story with an attic and enclosed porch. There was a great room and full kitchen as well as two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Not to mention the renovated basement. It had a gorgeous bluestone walkway that Brock never knew he wanted leading up to an intricate stone masonry doorway and when they stepped inside, he knew instantly that _ this _ was the right place for them. 

“Yard looks shitty,” Jack commented, as blunt as ever as he pawed at the dying grass with the toe of his boot. 

“We can worry about landscaping when we gotta place t’ sleep, smart ass.” Brock rolled his eyes playfully. 

And that was that, they signed the contract the same day. 

It took almost a month to get Brock’s apartment cleared out, another two weeks for Jack. There was a lot of sorting through things, of throwing things away. A lot of _ ‘Are we really gonna need a third night stand if we’re converting the other bedroom into an office?’ _ and _ ‘Why the hell would we want to keep this ratty couch?’ _ But once they got Brock’s apartment in order, Jack’s went by like a breeze. Jack was more of a minimalist, he didn’t keep needless furniture. He had a bed that they planned on tossing out because Brock’s was newer and more comfortable anyway, a black leather sectional and matching recliner that were definitely going along with them, and a rickety coffee table that Brock had hated since he first laid eyes on it. But eventually, they were able to get mostly moved in save for a few boxes stowed away to deal with when ever they felt like it. 

Neither of them were very concerned about interior design but Brock was more inclined to it. He was able to tell when things would look good in their new space, often times bringing them home if they weren’t outrageously priced. The current object of his affection? An ombre grey and white faux fur throw blanket. Usually priced at thirty dollars, it was apparently on sale for twenty and Brock knew it would look perfect draped over the back of their couch. It was soft, felt warm— which was a good thing seeing as Jack _ always _ had the ceiling fan going even if the AC was on and Brock was already freezing his ass off. Jack would tease him for buying it but it was on sale and damn it, he liked being warm. 

When Brock got home with his find, Jack was already making dinner while he watched the hockey game he’d recorded the night prior. He acknowledged Brock with a small glance but nothing other than that, something the two of them had grown used to. Jack didn’t talk much so Brock filled the space for both of them. As Jack got their dinner together, Brock cut the tag off of the blanket and folded it before draping it over the back of the couch. 

He occupied himself with the hockey game while Jack cooked, asking a few questions every once in a while. Brock tried learning the game for Jack, he really did. But he was never a sports guy and there were some things he still didn’t understand. 

They got through dinner relatively quickly and it wasn’t until they’d finished cleaning the kitchen that Jack finally noticed it. Snorting out a scoff, he turned to Brock and gestured toward the back of their couch with an amused grin.

“Did’ja buy yourself a blankie, baby?” He asked and Brock sneered, playfully shoving him— making sure to be mindful of his bad shoulder— as they slumped down on the couch. 

“Hey now, polar bear, not all of us can brave negative degree weather and come out refreshed, alright?” Brock was trying to sound irritated, he really was, but it just ended up coming out in a laugh. “I like to be _ warm! _” 

Jack teased him a little more throughout the night but it all mellowed out, just as it always did. They turned a movie on, Brock growing to be more interested in Jack as time ran on but before he could try and get things going, Jack was already half asleep. Brock knew he shouldn’t have fallen asleep on the couch but the temptation of cuddling with the man he loved was just too strong. He was punished for it the next morning, his back protesting all movement while he went through his morning routine. Per usual, Jack was still asleep when he left but that morning, Brock made it a point to cover him up with the blanket before completing the ritual of pressing a kiss into his temple and muttering _ ‘I’ll see you later, doll.’ _

The precinct was quiet enough, his day was mostly filled with paperwork and processing and antics from his partner, Bucky. He met Jack for lunch, who was still sweaty from his daily trip to the gym, at a new place across town that he knew he’d be late getting back from. But Fury could get over it, lunch was a sacred ceremony! And Brock was _ not _ about to miss a single minute that could be spent with his man. The new place was nice, modern and quiet as they discussed planning their next date night and laughed to each other while a grumpy old man quietly muttered his disapproval when Jack buried his nose in Brock’s hair during their goodbye embrace. It was another usual day for them and Brock had come to expect the consistency of it. 

  


So when he got home to see Jack napping on the couch, the throw blanket curled up in his arms and tucked under his chin, it was certainly a surprise. Jack usually liked to keep busy; yard work, construction projects, hell even odd jobs if he was bored enough. It was odd to see him being lazy for once and Brock couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left him. Ever since they moved in, Jack had been restless. The new environment was subconsciously keeping him anxious, always moving and always occupying his mind with something else rather than reveling in his time off. But this was a good sign, even if it was a simple one, because it meant Jack was finally calming down again. 

And this became a new part of their ritual. Brock would go to work, they’d meet for lunch, and he’d come home to Jack asleep on the couch with the blanket in his arms. Jack would wake up and silently fold it back up, never acknowledging that he was enjoying it much more than he let on. Brock never brought it up, didn’t want to ruin it. For two weeks, Brock got to revel in this sight and he loved every moment of it. 

But one day he came home and Jack wasn’t there. This wasn’t unusual, Jack liked to get out. Being stuck inside all day was never something he coped with well and Brock didn’t blame him because he knew just how intense the cabin fever could get. 

Jack never knew what to do with all of that extra time on his hands, often choosing to bide it by getting work done and every once in a while, something leisurely with a few buddies of his from the gym. So Brock didn’t worry about it. That was until dinner came and Jack still wasn’t home. He tried calling, he didn’t get an answer. The hockey game came on and Brock tried to watch it but his mind was constantly filling with new paranoid thoughts. He tried calling Jack seven more times, chiding himself each time for being a mother hen. Jack was a grown man, he knew what he was doing and how to handle himself. Getting all worried and fussing over him was only going to stress Brock out and irritate Jack whenever he got home. But he couldn’t help it. As the hours ticked on, as the missed calls piled up, Brock got more anxious.

It wasn’t until two in the morning, as Brock leaned on the back of the couch staring deep into the mug of coffee in hand, that Jack finally came back home with an almost silent click of the front door. Brock almost dropped the cup when he leaned back to set it down on the coffee table before rushing to pull Jack into his arms. 

“Where ya been, sweetheart?” He asked quietly, laughing a bit as he did. He had nothing to be worried about anymore, Jack was safe and sound. Usually he’d be more relieved but a sinking feeling in his gut told him that something was wrong and one look into Jack’s red rimmed eyes told him he was right. “What’s wrong?” 

For a long moment, Jack was silent and still. Eventually, he pulled Brock back over to the couch, sitting down and looking him in the eye before his head fell again while he shook it. Staring in confusion, Brock took the initiative to pull them both down, leaning on the arm of the sectional, before resting his cheek against the top of Jack’s head. 

“I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.” The words that left him were so soft that they wouldn’t have been heard if there was even the slightest noise made to interrupted him, meant for only Jack to hear. He knew Jack didn’t really like being babied or coddled for the most part, it was a good sign when he didn’t. It was times like these, when he was pliant in Brock’s hands and willing to be held and talked softly to, that Brock knew something had happened to upset him. 

“I got a call.” Was all he said when he finally did speak and Brock knew exactly what that tone of voice meant. Sighing, he carded his hand through Jack’s hair. It was still soft from the shower he’d taken that morning. 

“How long?” Brock dared to question as his free hand rubbed soothing circles into Jack’s neck. The position they were in was a tad uncomfortable for Brock, his arm tucked between his and Jack’s body like a damn chicken wing and pressed against the couch, but he would manage. 

“Twelve months.” 

“When do you ship out?” Brock asked, trying to convince himself that his hands hadn’t just started shaking at such an intimidating and lonely number. 

“Next week.” 

Brock couldn’t stop himself from audibly sucking in a breath, watching as Jack’s body sagged against his. 

“Hey, now,” Brock started, his hand leaving Jack’s hair to gently guide his face until they were looking at each other. Jack looked wrecked, tired, and so much different from the man Brock saw at lunch twelve hours earlier. “We’ll get through this one just like we did the others.” 

Jack dropped his gaze, shrugging one shoulder before moving to rest his head against Brock’s chest again. 

“Longest I’ve gone since I met you.” He sighed. “Don’t wanna leave you here that long.”

At this, Brock scoffed a bit and chuckled, shaking his head while he once again pet at Jack’s hair. Pulling his arm free and moving it to wrap around the large frame in front of him, Brock let a melancholy smile fall over his features. “Oh Jackie, it’s your job. I knew what I was gettin’ into, so don’t worry ‘bout me, okay? I’ll make it just fine.” 

Going that long without Jack wasn’t something he _ wanted _ to do, of course, but he knew how much Jack enjoyed his job. Jack had a lot of fun on his deployments, even if he was away from home for a while. It was something Brock never wanted him to hold back from. 

“Don’t wanna be without you that long.” Jack’s voice was low, quiet. He was trying to hide the cracks in it but he should’ve known better because it was the little shit like that that Brock always picked up on. Something deep inside his chest began to ache as he held Jack, his emotions fighting each other in his mind. While he was obviously disheartened with the idea of Jack leaving him for so long, his heart sang with the new confirmation of Jack’s affection for him. 

Jack’s job had always stunted their relationship. There were times where he would come back from an eight month deployment for two weeks just to be sent right back out before Brock could even get used to Jack’s scent on his clothes. This time it’d been almost nine months since his last deployment and Brock knew they were just sitting tight until he got another call. They knew that the domestic life they’d built for themselves wasn’t going to last forever but neither of them were prepared for it this time. 

Brock was at a loss for words, he wasn’t sure how to make this better and that’s what made it hard to deal with. Lifting up his free hand, he shoved it through his own hair before pausing as his arm brushed against something soft. Not thinking much on it, Brock pulled the throw blanket down on pure impulse. Wrapping the length of it over both of them, Brock nuzzled his blanket covered hand into Jack’s cheek and watched that smile he missed so dearly finally return. Rearranging himself, Jack was on his stomach between Brock’s legs when he looked up with a considerably less devastated look. 

“I know it hurts,” Brock started, sighing as he cupped Jack’s cheek a moment, running his thumb along the scar that graced the right side of his face, snaking from just beneath his bottom lip and curling beneath his chin. The day he came home with that gash, he said something so frustratingly stupid that Brock _ still _ wanted to kick his ass for;

_ “I get it, ya know. If you don’t think I’m pretty anymore.” _

It still stung to think that Jack thought Brock’s affection for him only ran skin deep, but as much as he thought he loved Jack then, everything just got more intense. The sheer amount of love he had for this man, this man that he had been utterly smitten with the moment he saw those beautiful sage green eyes, was astonishing in ways that were almost terrifying. 

“But I’m gonna be here whenever you finally come back,” Brock finished, resting his head against Jack’s so that sage and honey could mix when their eyes met. “So you can make this place my home again.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr Plug](https://c-aribeau.tumblr.com/)  
Note: This fic is unbeta-ed, I promise to fix the mistakes I find
> 
> This fic was purely self indulgence for me because I crave that fluff for my wonderful sons, honestly. Wherever Jack Rollins is right now, I hope he's happy and thriving.  
Anyways, feel free to tell me what you think! Comments and kudos motivate me a lot and are very appreciated!


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